


Ups and Downs

by chaserzachsmith



Series: Professors of Hogwarts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, I Tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 05:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaserzachsmith/pseuds/chaserzachsmith
Summary: Minerva reflects on her career.





	Ups and Downs

She has been in this position for a very long time, so she understands well the awkwardness around former students who become her colleagues. After all, she taught both Filius and Pomona, taught Severus and Sybil and Charity and Wilhelmina and Aurora.

Many of these former students, of course, have gained upon her since she taught them. She's only twenty or so years older than Filius and Pomona.

But the latest have been too much for her. She remembers Remus Lupin so well, as a student- the way he was around his friends, the way he was when he didn't think anyone was looking. She remembers him at sixteen with scars on his arms and an easy smile. She remembers him at twenty-two after Black had been arrested.

It was so recently that he was twenty-two and lost everything he'd loved. It has changed him, aged him.

She goes to his office on Halloween with some tea, and stops at the end of the hallway to watch Harry Potter leave.

The thought that Remus would seek Harry out today is terribly sad. She takes a deep breath and goes the rest of the way.

Remus looks up at her from where he's feeding a Grindylow. "Minerva."

"I brought you some tea," she says. She wants to add that she knows today is hard, that she knows what today _is_ , that she is here to support and help him.

She doesn't.

"Thank you," says Remus, with a smile. She smiles back, suddenly overcome with fondness for him.

* * *

The fact is that the faculty of Hogwarts has become something like a vaguely dysfunctional family, and Dolores Umbridge, following in Gilderoy Lockheart's footsteps, is the horrible cousin's girlfriend they'd love to scare away.

Minerva supposes that this analogy makes Argus the horrible cousin. It seems fitting, somehow.

"I thought Gilderoy was bottom ground," says Pomona. "Then we had _Remus_ , and you know- he was the best we'd gotten in years, and I thought maybe he was going to start an upward trend. Thought for _sure_ with Moody."

"There was your mistake," says Filius, his mouth twitching into a dry smile. He swigs his drink. "Moody's only goal in life is to keep people on their toes."

"Have any of yours gotten detentions yet?" Minerva asks. "I've only had one complaint, out of a dozen detentions."

"Yours are the stubborn ones," Filius points out. "I have had _numerous_ complaints, a couple of arguments that she should be sacked, an essay on modern teachers, and only two students with detentions."

"Would that work?" Minerva muses. "Getting her sacked." She has already considered a few methods of getting her out of Hogwarts. They were mostly impractical, though she had to reject one on technical illegality.

"No, I checked," says Filius. "The Ministry has to order her out."

"How do we get them to do _that_?" Minerva says.

"You're missing the point," says Pomona. "Albus is still in charge of the school, he could probably put a stop to the detentions."

"Until she gets dear Cornelius to interfere," mutters Minerva.

Pomona grimaces, but Filius shrugs. "It's better than nothing," he says.

"It is," agrees Minerva.

Pomona sighs and pours another round of drinks. "Well, then, there's nothing else we can do right now."

"Oh," says Filius, and takes a long sip. "I rather think there are many things we can do."

"Do you?" says Pomona.

"Yes, I do," he says. "I know you haven't, Pomona, but I've a lot of experience in petty ostracism."

Minerva smiles.

* * *

"I thought we'd hit the rock bottom with Umbridge," whispers Pomona, barely audible. Filius, on Pomona's other side, sighs.

Minerva smiles. No teeth. Keeps her eyes on the students. The one she's most worried about is Ginny Weasley, who glares up at Snape with open loathing. Neville Longbottom, sitting next to her, puts one hand on her back. Maybe comforting, maybe warning. Minerva is glad he is there.

The Gryffindor Table looks empty. Students sit the entire length of the benches, but it isn't packed anymore, but sparsely scattered. Students all over the room sit close to their friends, huddled and hunched and quiet, but there are a few that sit alone, and she wonders how many are gone. A few that sit ramrod straight and bold and defiant.

She is terrified for them, these brave ones. Terrified for them and for everyone else.

* * *

The weirdest to welcome onto the staff are the two who had been there in 1997. Those who she'd seen bleeding on the floor, those who she'd watched in the Battle. It's harder with Michael Corner- Minerva had never really spoken to him when he was a student, as he'd never been in her House, and she associates him almost solely with the fact that he was Michael Corner who had almost bled to death in the Great Hall.

He's a library aide, all set to take over as school librarian when Madam Pince retires, and sometimes Minerva wonders if he virtually lives in that library, bent over the ancient catalogues he's been reorganising.

She clears her throat, and he jumps and swings himself around in his chair. "Oh," he says. "Sorry, Professor. Do you need something?"

"I just wanted to check in. I haven't seen you leave the library once." Minerva has been avoiding him, but she's suddenly glad she managed to get herself to visit. He looks like he's had the scare of his life.

"I leave it to sleep," says Corner, and smiles wryly. "Sometimes."

"Does the work suit you?" Minerva asks. "If it's too taxing-"

"No, Professor," he says. "I'm fine."

"If you need any accommodations-"

"I'm fine, Professor," says Corner. "Honest."

"You know, Mr. Corner, we are colleagues now," says Minerva, somewhat amused. She remembers, fleetingly, Remus Lupin calling her _Professor_ back in the Order, in the eighties. "You… don't need to call me Professor."

She'd been about to tell him to call her Minerva, but on second thought, that felt strange.

"You just called me 'Mr. Corner,'" says Corner.

Minerva could kick herself. "Well, Michael," she says, and his mouth spasms as if to hide a laugh, "Sometimes professors make mistakes."

"Too right," he says, and she worries for a moment that he means it bitterly, before he laughs.

"In any case," says Minerva, and pauses. "I was just checking. Do take care."

"Yes, ma'am," says Michael.

Minerva turns away, but then turns back. "And Michael? Do come down sometime for dinner. Be a part of the staff."

"Maybe," says Michael. "Maybe."

* * *

It's perhaps easier when, two years later, Neville Longbottom quits the Aurors to be Pomona's student teacher. Minerva knew Neville better, had watched him closely over the years. Had watched him especially closely his seventh year, had watched him grow up.

He is younger than Michael Corner, but she can see him as an adult far more easily. He is taller. Broader. More confident.

Perhaps that shouldn't be surprising, but it's as shocking as it was in 1997 to see him this way.

She watches a lesson once, watches how animated he gets when he talks, watches him navigate the greenhouses, watches the slight limp he's never gotten rid of. He seems at home in those greenhouses, surrounded by growth.

Minerva had advised him, years ago, that he might be a good teacher. Back when the worst the school had seen was Dolores Umbridge, Hogwarts High Inquisitor. Seeing him here, she's gratified that she made the right choice.

* * *

"I've had a good career," she says, and Pomona laughs.

"You have," says Filius, sounding faraway. "Except for the nineties. And seventies."

"Except for the nineties and seventies," Minerva concedes.

"Well, that's just two decades out of sixty-five years," says Pomona, and Minerva laughs.

"When you put it that way, it makes me wonder if maybe I didn't have a good career," she says.

"You had a marvelous career," replies Pomona, and when Minerva looks over at her, there are tears in her eyes. "And you did so much good."

Minerva has half a mind to point out that all the good she did couldn't help any of the class of '98, but she doesn't. She and her colleagues- she and her best friends- sit in quiet for a moment.

"At least," she says, and turns to look at Pomona, "I can be assured I'll leave Hogwarts in good hands."

Pomona smiles. "It'd be the first time, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, quiet," says Minerva, but she's smiling too.

* * *

She is elderly enough to steer clear of alcohol, so she's drinking pumpkin juice on the balcony of her office and staring at nothing in particular when Neville knocks.

She lets him in and pours him some juice and they stand side by side looking over the grounds. "It's beautiful," says Neville, almost like he's afraid to disturb their quiet companionship, and Minerva nods. She wonders if he's always been taller than her, and she just never realised.

"I was here to ask if I need to move quarters since I'm not a student teacher anymore-" starts Neville.

"Yes, I'll have a house elf help you move tomorrow."

Neville nods.

They look over the grounds. "We'll miss you, professor," says Neville. "The whole school."

"I'm gratified to hear that," says Minerva.

She looks sideways at Neville, who looks more peaceful than she can ever remember seeing him. "You will be a wonderful teacher, Neville."

"I can only hope to be as good as all of mine were," says Neville.

Minerva looks back at the grounds, and suddenly she is very, very glad to retire. "Oh, not all of them," she reminds Neville, and he laughs.

Minerva is astonished sometimes at how Neville never seems bitter. She has grown to expect it from much of the DA- from Ginny Weasley or Seamus Finnigan or poor young Dennis Creevey. There's no bitterness in Neville's laugh now, though, and he glances back at her. "The ones who mattered, then," he says.

"Am I counted among those?" Minerva asks.

Neville scoffs. "You don't need to ask that. Of course."

Minerva nods. Smiles.

I've had a good career, she tells herself. Except for the seventies and nineties. A good, good career.


End file.
